The Colored Dancing Match.
By Frank L. Stanton.
'Twuz in de dancin' season w'en de fros' wuz layin' roun'
En de rabbit wuz a-gwine lak a gray ghos' 'cross de groun'—
W'en de lazies' er niggers wuz a-comin' to de scratch—
Dat we took de whole plantation wid de cullud Dancin' Match.
De prize wuz—lemme see now: Two hams, a side er meat,
Sack er flour, en a jimmyjohn what had a mouth ez sweet
Ez a hive a-drippin' honey — ez a red rose, w'en de dew
Sorter tilts it, 'twell it's leanin' ter de bees what drinks ter vou.
De flo' wuz smooth en sanded, de fiddler in his place —
De lively music ripplin' 'cross de wrinkles in his face
En lightin' up de eyes er him, en tinglin' ter his feet:
"Good Times in Ole Verginny," en "Kentucky's Hard ter Beat!"
De schedule fer de dancin' wuz "All get in de ring!"
En "Who'll hoi' out de longes' whilst dey got a foot ter fling! "
Dey wuz twenty answer roll-call, lak a sojerin' brigade,
En dey never wuz sich dancin' sence a fiddle-string wuz made!
En couple after couple—fagged out en short er breath—
Went reelin' f'um dat dancin' 'fo' dey dance deyse'f ter death!
All of 'em 'cept Br'er Williams: he wuz in de ring fer sho',
Entiis foots des kep' a-kickin' er de white san' f'um de flo'!
De fiddlestick a-flyin', de lights a-gittin' low,
De music in a gallop, en Br'er Williams on de go!
"You wins de prize, Br'er Williams!"—But still de fiddler played,
En lightnin' wuzn't nuthin, ter de steps Br'er Williams made!
